Read Online The Waters Rising by Sheri S. Tepper - Free Book Online
Authors: Sheri S. Tepper
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eye. Oh, many, many other things. Believe me, there are more ways than one to fool a cat.”
Xulai wondered if that were true. She had never really tried to fool a cat, though she thought it might be amusing to try. Perhaps Bothercat could be convinced there was something malignant in her left sleeve, something that he should stay away from. Sometimes he was with her in the stable and they fell asleep in the loft with him often curled up on top of her left arm. She woke with a useless appendage, all full of pins and needles. Could she teach him to leave her arm alone? Trying might be more difficult or troublesome or frightening than it was worth.
“Frightening!” exclaimed the chipmunk, who seemed quite capable of reading her mind. “Well, let me tell you, the world can be thoroughly frightening in most of its parts, all of which can be dealt with! When you have thoroughly mastered the art of being unnoticed, perhaps we will take up the study of misdirection . . .”
Though Xulai tried to listen, the warm feeling that had come after swallowing the . . . what? Egg? Seed? Whatever it was, the warm feeling had lasted and a gentle tide of sleep came all at once. Soothed by chipmunk chatter, she floated away on it without a thought.
T he couple who had trespassed in the woods of Woldsgard returned to their camp. Though it was placed in a quiet glen with ready access to water, though it was well enough hidden that she feared no interlopers, Alicia, Duchess of Altamont, could not fall asleep. It had been a long day, a tiring day, but her mind would not shut itself off and let her go. Instead she lay in a strange half-drowsing state, her mind drifting among half-remembered things that had happened long ago when she was a child. Tonight, she smelled tar, and sun on timber. She heard a huge chain creaking and the slosh of water. She was in a favorite place of her childhood, in Kamfels, well hidden under the pier, directly across the narrow fjord from Krakenholm.
The sloping ground under the end of the pier was dry and warm. Stout wooden posts made walls on two sides, the massive timbers of the pier made a roof over her head—even when rain fell, this secluded place usually stayed dry—and at the far end there was room between the posts for her to sneak out without getting her feet wet. Once beneath the pier, she could stand up without bumping her head, but grown-ups couldn’t. She had gathered some old crates and baskets and piled them toward the back, with room behind them to hide in, so if anyone even started to come under, they wouldn’t see her at all.
She liked it because she could hear everything people said and did: the guardsmen shuffling their feet, talking, sometimes calling out to their replacements at the end of their duty. Across the water she could see Krakenholm, where the ferry was moored. When people needed to cross from the Kamfels side, they took the hammer chained to the post and rang the bronze bell that hung above, on the pier itself. The bell was large, with a sonorous tone that echoed between the walls of the mountains on the far side. When people wanted to cross from Woldsgard to Kamfels, they hammered on the door of the ferryman’s house. His house had two holes in the wall with a long loop of chain going in one hole and coming out the other. The bottom floor of his house held a treadmill that pulled the chain in an endless circle. When the ferry was loaded with men or horses, the donkeys on the treadmill made the wheel go around; the wheel pulled the chain; the chain moved the ferry across the fjord. When people needed to go back, the donkeys faced the other direction and made it come back again. Alicia had seen the inside of the house, so she knew how it worked. When the ferry was being used, she could hear the people getting on and off, their conversations, all kinds of things. Usually it was not very interesting, but sometimes the things they said were strange and mysterious. Those were
Xulai wondered if that were true. She had never really tried to fool a cat, though she thought it might be amusing to try. Perhaps Bothercat could be convinced there was something malignant in her left sleeve, something that he should stay away from. Sometimes he was with her in the stable and they fell asleep in the loft with him often curled up on top of her left arm. She woke with a useless appendage, all full of pins and needles. Could she teach him to leave her arm alone? Trying might be more difficult or troublesome or frightening than it was worth.
“Frightening!” exclaimed the chipmunk, who seemed quite capable of reading her mind. “Well, let me tell you, the world can be thoroughly frightening in most of its parts, all of which can be dealt with! When you have thoroughly mastered the art of being unnoticed, perhaps we will take up the study of misdirection . . .”
Though Xulai tried to listen, the warm feeling that had come after swallowing the . . . what? Egg? Seed? Whatever it was, the warm feeling had lasted and a gentle tide of sleep came all at once. Soothed by chipmunk chatter, she floated away on it without a thought.
T he couple who had trespassed in the woods of Woldsgard returned to their camp. Though it was placed in a quiet glen with ready access to water, though it was well enough hidden that she feared no interlopers, Alicia, Duchess of Altamont, could not fall asleep. It had been a long day, a tiring day, but her mind would not shut itself off and let her go. Instead she lay in a strange half-drowsing state, her mind drifting among half-remembered things that had happened long ago when she was a child. Tonight, she smelled tar, and sun on timber. She heard a huge chain creaking and the slosh of water. She was in a favorite place of her childhood, in Kamfels, well hidden under the pier, directly across the narrow fjord from Krakenholm.
The sloping ground under the end of the pier was dry and warm. Stout wooden posts made walls on two sides, the massive timbers of the pier made a roof over her head—even when rain fell, this secluded place usually stayed dry—and at the far end there was room between the posts for her to sneak out without getting her feet wet. Once beneath the pier, she could stand up without bumping her head, but grown-ups couldn’t. She had gathered some old crates and baskets and piled them toward the back, with room behind them to hide in, so if anyone even started to come under, they wouldn’t see her at all.
She liked it because she could hear everything people said and did: the guardsmen shuffling their feet, talking, sometimes calling out to their replacements at the end of their duty. Across the water she could see Krakenholm, where the ferry was moored. When people needed to cross from the Kamfels side, they took the hammer chained to the post and rang the bronze bell that hung above, on the pier itself. The bell was large, with a sonorous tone that echoed between the walls of the mountains on the far side. When people wanted to cross from Woldsgard to Kamfels, they hammered on the door of the ferryman’s house. His house had two holes in the wall with a long loop of chain going in one hole and coming out the other. The bottom floor of his house held a treadmill that pulled the chain in an endless circle. When the ferry was loaded with men or horses, the donkeys on the treadmill made the wheel go around; the wheel pulled the chain; the chain moved the ferry across the fjord. When people needed to go back, the donkeys faced the other direction and made it come back again. Alicia had seen the inside of the house, so she knew how it worked. When the ferry was being used, she could hear the people getting on and off, their conversations, all kinds of things. Usually it was not very interesting, but sometimes the things they said were strange and mysterious. Those were
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